


To Catch a Falling Star

by Lolymoon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Day Two: Being Caught, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, Outlaw Queen - Freeform, Outlaw Queen Week, Outlaw Queen Week 2015, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolymoon/pseuds/Lolymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"It didn't matter that her words hadn't been meant for him.</em>
  <br/><em>He gave meaning to them.</em>
  <br/><em>And if no one else will come, he would.</em>
  <br/><em>He would catch that falling girl before her light died on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff."</em>
</p>
<p>One day, Robin Locksley receives a letter sent in error to him by a stranger named 'Regina Mills'. As he reads it, he quickly realizes that he might be the only one able to stop this stranger from making a terrible choice...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch a Falling Star

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a French song, called "La Lettre" by Renan Luce, a lovely little song about a similar story.  
> It starts quite sad and angsty but turns out rather sweet in the end... Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: attempted suicide.
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine.

Robin got a letter this morning.

 

A lost letter.

 

A mistake.

 

How could it have been anything other than a mistake, when he was certain he had never met a girl named Regina Mills in his life?

 

Regina.

 

It wasn't a name you just forget.

 

Regina.

 

It was a beautiful name.

 

A name fitting the warm and spicy perfume that had soaked the sheet of paper carefully folded within the envelope.

A name fitting the bold and elegant handwriting, the proud 'i' and the spry "s", the tall "t" and the shy "e".

A name he wished he could have said to someone else beside the silent walls of his studio on campus and the grumpy stray cat that only came to him for scraps and the occasional petting.

A name he wanted to say to her.

 

He had no idea who she was. But he had read the letter so many times today and tonight that he felt as if he could picture her in his mind, and get an image close enough to what the real Regina Mills had to look like.

Deep and soulful eyes. Many bright teeth. A haughty chin. A brow quick to frowning. And her smile. She must have the most beautiful smile in the world.

 

Once again, he read the letter, allowing the words to sink in, revelling in each one of them as if they were a kiss send his way from beyond the miles separating them.

 

_My love,_

 

_These two months with you have been the most wonderful of my life. I already know I shall treasure every moment I have spent with you for as long as I live, and that I will never know anything so beautiful again. To be held in your arms, to hear your laugh every morning, to touch your smile, to kiss you - to love you and **to be loved**. That was all I needed. All I asked.  
_

_But I must have asked for too much, too soon, all at once, and now I'm lost and I have nothing left._

_Nothing but this gift you gave me, growing inside of me, this part of you that will never be mine, now._

_I wish we had been more careful._

_I wish we hadn't run away._

_I wish my mother hadn't found out._

_I wish..._

_In three days she will be leaving to close a deal with someone I know nothing about, but I know it concerns me and I'm terrified._

_I don't want this life. I don't want what she has chosen for me. I don't want a life without you..._

_When she'll be gone I'll be able to escape the house.  
_

_In three days._

_I will go to Firefly Hill, at the edge of the cliff, where we would sit for hours and look down upon the city lights, where we had our first kiss, where you told me that you loved me, and I told you I wanted to be with you forever._

_I will go there, and watch the sun rise._

_I will go there and I will jump._

_I wish you would be there to catch me._

_I wish you'd come and save me._

_Please, Daniel, please be here._

_I have no hope left and I'm tired to be so alone._

_I miss you._

_I love you._

 

_Your Regina._

 

His thumb grazed over the tears that had fallen and dried over the _I love you_ and  _Daniel_. His heart ached and throbbed in compassion for her pain, as it had every other time he had read the letter.

He wondered what it would be like to love someone so much you could cry over their name.

But most of all, he wondered about her.

He looked at the date she had written at the beginning, and noticed that her hand hadn't been shaking despite her obvious turmoil.

He admired her all the more.

But he was worried. Because according to that date, tomorrow this girl who was a familiar stranger to him would go to that Firefly Hill and would die.

And he kept wondering, the words rolling endlessly in his head.

Would she do it? Would she jump over the cliff?

Who was Daniel? Would he be there to stop her? Would he know, without the letter? There was no last name on the envelope. Who wrote a letter to someone and put no last name, and no address?

What had happened to her? What had happened to make her so lonely and miserable and with no choice left but the one that would end all her choices?

Will she do it?

Will she?

Will she?

 

The question haunted his sleeplessness that night, and he couldn't tear his thoughts away from this girl, couldn't turn his eyes away from her words, couldn't close his ears to her cries of woe. There was no relief, no respite.

His heart was full of her.

He was in love.

He had never been in love.

He was in love with a suicidal, reckless, desperate woman who was nothing to him but words and water on a page, nothing beyond the dreams her letter conjured in his mind.

Over and over again he pictured full, blood-red lips moving soundlessly, mouthing "please be here, please be here, please be here..."

 

At four in the morning, Robin jumped out of bed and rushed over to his computer, kicking aside all the things that stood in his way (discarded clothes and a lonely shoe and the college books on Comparative Literature), typing the words 'Firefly Hill' at the speed of lightening on Google Map).

Five minutes later he was dressed, he had a the right directions, and he had made up this mind.

It didn't matter that her words hadn't been meant for him.

He gave meaning to them.

And if no one else will come, he would.

He would catch that falling girl before her light died on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

 

.

.

.

 

Someone was already there when he arrived, out of breath and shirt askew, his hair a mess, stubble on his cheeks, eyes too wide and slightly red, and he paused, stalled, what had he been thinking, he couldn't go to her like this, he probably looked like a vagrant, a mad man, he will scare her, better to slow down, to...

All his thoughts flew away when he got his first glimpse of her figure against the dawning sky.

She looked like a ghost blending against the coulds.

She looked like a seagull ready to take her flight.

Irresistibly drawn to her, he took a few steps forward, just enough to make out the features of her face, the color of her clothes, and realize in a sharp intake of breath that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.

She looked young, barely out of her teenage years. Her lush, dark hair was tied in a loose braid floating heavily in the morning wind. In a stark contrast, her thin, white dress was flapping against her thighs, a strap slipping off her shoulder. She was barefoot, and her arms were wrapped around her slender frame. She was shivering. She was slightly turned towards him, and he could see her mouth. The same deep red he had envisioned. Lips parted in distress.

His heart leapt and soared.

She wasn't just beautiful. She was real.

So real she could die.

 

He feared she was going to jump any minute now, so he took another step, and another, and in a strangled voice he called soflty:

 

"Regina."

 

She turned her head.

He had done well to say her name before anything else. She was surprised, but not startled. For perhaps a second, she even seemed to glow, and perhaps she mistook him for this Daniel, her sweet love she had sent the letter to, never knowing it had come to him instead.

Then she blinked, her face fell (it hurt him), and her whole body stiffened.

 

"Who..."

 

Her voice was hoarse and wet, and her cheeks were bathed in tears. It gave her an eerie look, as if her skin was made of crystal, shining brightly in the sunlight, rose and gold and lavender blue. If someone had asked him this instant to draw a portrait of Sunrise, he would have painted it in her likeness, exactly as she was, with raven hair and sable eyes, olive skin alive with shadows, pale gown hugging her supple body in a tender kiss, and a necklace of pearly tears. He couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over her body, from staring helplessly at her face, drinking her in, her gorgeous sight, the extravagance of her being here. Dazzled, he walked onwards slowly, but stopped when she began to retreat, closer to the edge, and finally faced him, dark brown eyes both defiant and frightened, her hands resting protectively on her belly.

That's when he saw she was pregnant.

And some obscure parts of the letter made suddenly more sense.

He stood there agape, his heart beating wildly in his throat, the blood rushing to his ears, making it difficult for him to hear her.

 

"If you come any closer I'll jump!"

 

"No! Please, Regina."

 

She must have felt the urgency and care in his voice, unusual from a stranger's, because she was frowning, and even leaning towards him, and he smiled at her imperious tone when she asked curtly:

 

"Who are you and how do know my name?"

 

He couldn't stop smiling like a damn fool, despite the stressful situation, despite her distrust, despite his fear, because she sounded exactly like he had imagined in his head. Daring and insecure, regal and youthful, her voice too deep and rich for her age, but still slightly high-pitched on the edge.

She scowled at him when he didn't answer fast enough for her taste, and actually stomped her foot.

She was rather adorable.

 

"Why are you standing here staring at me like some simpleton? Are you too stupid to speak?"

 

He laughed. Gold help him, he laughed. It was wonderful. She was stricken by his reaction and looked so incensed, placing her hands on her hips with a cocky attitude, that he mockily bowed and shouted to cover the wind blowing loudly between them:

 

"Pardon me, Miss! It's just that you are more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined."

 

She tilted her head to the side, now intrigued, her terrible threats forgotten for a while.

 

"And you are the most ragged boy I've ever had the displeasure to meet. What do you mean you've _imagined_ me?"

 

He was exhilarated, winded, the most intense sensations running through him, blazing his thoughts, it was like he was on drugs, he had tried it once, he remembered the feeling, the invincibility, the absolute confidence, he slowly took the letter out of his jean pocket, and waved it at her.

 

"Your words have revealed you to me, Regina!"

 

She squinted, almost took a step towards him to get a better look, stopped herself at once and crossed her arms over her chest, letting him approach her, and she snatched the letter from him but raised a hand between them, forbidding him to come any closer.

As soon as her eyes fell upon the letter they filled with new tears and his heart gave a painful twitch in sympathy. All the bravado she had tried to put up in front of a stranger had crumbled faced with the truth of herself she had expressed in that letter: that she was nothing but a heartbroken, lonely little girl with a problem to big for her on her hands, or rather, in her womb. She clutched the letter to her chest, and bit her lips savagely, leaving a drop of red on her teeth when she gritted out:

 

"This wasn't addressed to you!"

 

"I know."

 

He fought madly against his urge to take the four or five steps keeping them apart and engulf her in his arms, safe against his chest, because, even though he really wanted to do it, he knew it would most likely end with a slap and both of them tumbling over the edge. And he refused Death its due today.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

She looked up at him, her eyes were dead, empty, broken, and he had to talk, to tell her, he didn't know what but anything, anything to rekindle some light in this darkness, the flame that had flashed and burnt when she had called him "stupid".

 

"I'm sorry this letter hasn't reached your Daniel. I'm sorry he couldn't come. That's why I came instead, so you would know he hasn't given up on you, so you would know... you are not alone."

 

His hope fluttered when she smiled, but it was an old, sad smile, a knowing smile, and her voice was soft but patronizing when she said:

 

"That's very sweet of you. But he couldn't have come anyway."

 

He felt cold, heavy stones drop in his stomach when she looked away and whispered to the wind:

 

"He's dead."

 

He held his breath, blinked heavily.

It explained it. The bleakness, the resignation, the call for help that was really a swan song...

More jewels fell from her eyes, pearls bright as dawn and she let out a blubbery laugh.

 

"I had to write to him... one last time. But I had nowhere to sent the letter... I thought it would be destroyed. Lost."

 

"It... it was. But I found it."

 

He took a step towards her and she let him.

Three to go.

Carefully, he lifted his hand and pointed the light swell of her belly.

 

"This is his child?"

 

She gave a quick, nervous nod. Her hands went down again, resting just above the curve, clutching at her dress (which was a nightdress, he finally noticed, and a pale blue rather than white).

 

"We had run away. When I found out I was... pregnant. My mother, she... she had planned this perfect future for me, I would go to this prestigious college where I would excel in my studies and meet only the finest people in society and finally marry some well-off man who would help with the social mobility of our family... there was just no place for a boy with no education and no money and no status. And no time to be a mother at eighteen. But I wanted  _them_. I wanted  _my_ life. So we ran away..."

 

She hiccupped, and she didn't look very dignified or ethereal now, with tears and snot running on her face, her face red with emotions, battered by the unmerciful wind, her unplanned pregnancy, a living, breathing scandale of the upper class, but he loved her (he didn't know her), he loved her (she didn't know him), he loved her grief, and her audacity, and her trouble and her pride, and her shame, and even the small bump that would become a tiny human being, as long as it was hers, he loved it, he was enthralled by her words, even though they cut deep, he was overwhelmed because she was talking to him, she was confiding in him, as if he was a friend, and the letter he had spent a whole day holding tight in his hands was finally unfurling its secrets.

 

"We had two months. Two glorious months and then... he died. Some stupid car accident that made no sense and he died and he left me alone and he was gone!"

 

She wobbled and bent forward, crushed by the weight of those words, and he leapt forward, just one step, afraid she might lost balance and go over the edge whether she wanted it or not, but she straightened again, wiped her face with her hands (strong, small hands that still weren't shaking), both gross and graceful, and went on bravely with her story.

 

"I had to call my mother. She was... mad. She brought me back home and told me that as soon as I gave birth to the child I would never see it again."

 

She looked down to her stomach and gave a swift, shy caress to the distended flesh, quickly pulling her hand away as if she had been burned.

 

"I don't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do with me. I can't even protect myself, how could I ever protect it?"

 

Robin was close enough now to see the blue marks on her arms, and he could guess the extent of her mother's wrath. It made his fists ache to punch, his legs ache to kick, but he knew better than to give way to violence (had learned better) and instead, he gently brushed his knuckles against the cold skin of her arm, just above the wounds, so gently she didn't flinch, and didn't slap him, and he got bold enough to put his hand on her shoulder, wishing her to be warm, her who was shivering so violently, goosebumps on her flesh, she was wearing next to nothing and the wind was unkind and sorrow turned the blood into ice, she had to be so _cold_.

 

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

 

She tensed, looked away, but she leant into his touch, and whispered:

 

"A boy."

 

He saw how her lips curled, how her eyes softened. He took another step and she didn't see him. He stood right behind her, both hands hovering over her shoulders now.

One to go.

 

"I can help you."

 

She let out something that could have been a sob or a laugh or a snort and spoke, looking right ahead.

 

"You?"

 

"Me. I might be twenty, and a student, and not very rich, but I have enough. I know my way around. I have a job. I have friends. I have... I want to. I want to help you, Regina."

 

Slowly, she turned around, her eyes bulging with disbelief and wonder.

 

"But why?"

 

She was genuinely, truly asking him. As if it was beyond her how someone would care about what could happen to her. As if it was laughable, even. As if she wasn't worth it.

What had she been through in her life that she would come to think of herself as dissmissible?

What words, whose blows could have left her so scarred?

He took her elbows in his hands. Pressing, urging her to believe what he was going to say, but mindful of her boundaries.

 

"Because I don't want you to die. Please. I want to help you. I want to know you. I want to... love you. I think I already do."

 

She shook her head, more skeptical than shocked at this odd admission by a total stranger.

 

"Love me? You don't even know me!"

 

"I want to learn."

 

She denied and frowned and huffed, derisive.

 

"You're insane."

 

"I surely am. I've been insane since I've gotten hands on your letter. I've read your words over and over again, Regina. I spend all my day and all my night thinking about you. All my life, I've been waiting for someone like you. For someone who could love so fiercely and hurt so deeply that they would seem more alive than anybody else in this world. For someone I could love. And I love you. It's completely crazy, I know. I loved you as soon as I've read your name, as soon as I've smelled your perfume. I love you. I don't understand. I don't care. Do you?"

 

She was speechless, but holding on to his arms, fingers flexing on his biceps, her eyes searching his face anxiously, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but also trying to escape it, because it made no sense, and maybe it was okay, just the way it was, the absurdity, the sheer madness of it, maybe she could go along with it, take this last chance instead of taking the great plunge.

He sense her hesitation, the thoughts roaring in her head, and he took a step back, letting her go, letting her decide, giving her the space she needed, and never before had his life been so suspended to another one's words, he was frightened and excited beyond his wits.

 

"You... you would take me like this? I'm a mess."

 

He grinned and nodded eagerly.

 

"Yes, Miss. Running nose, red face, no clothes and knocked up. I want all of it. If you'll allow it. I want you."

 

Those last words were her undoing. How many people in her life must have told her that, besides a dead lover? She gasped and smiled, trembling under the pure, golden light that set her eyes ablaze. Then, on weak and shaky legs, she took the last step forward. Towards him.

And slipped.

 

Before she could muster a scream or widen her eyes in terror, he had grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her flush against him, her shoulder hitting his chest painfully, but he couldn't care less as long as she was safe in his arms, at last. Her almost fall had knocked the breath from both of them and they had no strength left, so Robin simply lowered himself on the grass and pulled Regina in his lap, one arm wrapped protectively over her belly, his other hand cupping her neck, fingers digging in her hair, massaging her scalp while he made soothing noises to calm her frantic heartbeat, whispering: "I've caught you" until she sighed with relief.

 

She strained her neck to look up at him, smiled dreamily and palmed his cheek, the touch unsure and unused.

 

"I don't even know your name."

 

He lowered his head and pressed his brow against hers, the fact that he really could have lost her before he could begin to love her hitting him hard and making him swallow in pain. But still, he smiled to her, a soft, reassuring smile that would always be meant for her from now on, a smile that would be _her_ smile.

 

"Robin. Robin Locksley, Miss. Pleased to meet you."

 

"I'm Regina. Regina Mills. Thank you for meeting me."

 

His eyes twinkled and he took her hand still resting against his cheek, brought it to his lips, sealing with a kiss a promise his whole being had been screaming as soon as he had laid eyes on her.

 

"Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the mistakes and misspellings, I was trying a new thing which was to write quickly !
> 
> Hopefully this strange idea didn't turn out so bad? Be sure to let me know!


End file.
